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Chapter Ten: From Iowa City, to Omaha, and to Columbia, Missouri
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« chapter ten » from iowa city, to omaha, and to columbia, missouri I , continuedtobeblockedin hiswriting,hefoundsomesolaceinhisteaching,hissituationhaving evolved into a much better one this second semester. His improved relations with his colleagues were important, not only for his peace of mind but for some sense of accomplishment during a di~culttime.Satisfactioninteachingandhisloveforhiswifewere the two things he could hold on to. He reported to Barbara, My relations with the workshop group seem to have become, rather suddenly, much easier this half. Perhaps it is just because I stayed, I don’t know.... One improvement I notice—we have entered into far more general discussion in the weekly meeting of the whole group, and, I feel much less like a vaudeville end man. I think everyone is easier. The whole trouble, perhaps, wasn’t just me, as a presence—one alien drop in the mixture and now it is wiped—we understand each other better, and tolerate the diƒerences better. (3/7/52) › 193 ‹ 10-unv002.c10.2 6/29/04 4:34 PM Page 193 As preoccupied by his writing as he may have been, he still worked hard at his teaching and made a sterling impression on many of his students. One of these was George Bluestone, who became the author of several books, a film producer, and a professor at Boston University. He remembers Clark as “an exemplary man”: In the year I studied with him in the Iowa Writers Workshop, I never heard him speak harshly to a student. He seemed endlessly available for conferences and reading. Tall, handsome and athletic, he was easy in his skin, could arouse erotic feelings in his students. Staying in shape was as natural as breathing . He was up at 5:30 every morning to run his four miles. He was an avid tennis player and swimmer. In his shell rimmed glasses he could look like Clark Kent. His idea of high style was putting on a mauve or peach t-shirt. He would meet with students at watering holes like Kenney’s. He seemed more comfortable there than in the plain quarters he was renting that year. What did we talk about? Although Clark could be a penetrating philosopher ... his natural style went toward the anecdotal. He was a natural-born story-teller. The one time I saw him in a rage was at Kenney’s. Seems a hunter had gone after a cougar, and had successfully brought it down. For reasons no one could understand, the hunter had returned [with] the big cat on his back. Holding the cougar by his hind legs, the hunter had displayed him ostentationally [sic] for all the world to see. [Clark said something like] “they ought to ban this kind of killing. Not only does he kill for nothing, he has to brag about it. I’d like to see how he likes being trussed up.” The beauty of the cat’s tawny pelt made its destruction insuƒerable. It was clear to all of us that there was much more at stake than a single caught cougar. The killing had violated some fundamental tenet of Walter’s cosmos. the ox-bow man › 194 ‹ 10-unv002.c10.2 6/29/04 4:34 PM Page 194 [3.81.72.247] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 17:00 GMT) How to characterize Walter’s worldview? ... To me he has always seemed a pagan moralist who defies any system. In this he reminds me most of Henry David Thoreau. Another student, Ruth Prigozy, who audited Clark’s creativewriting seminar because of his reputation (and because she was going out with a man who was in the Writers’ Workshop), remembers that he was tall and rangy and held people spellbound—indeed, he would talk to groups of students all night long—into the morning. That was one of the things people admired about him—he was a natural storyteller. He told a story about [a] venture into New York City—saw the tall buildings, the crowds and the subways, and headed promptly back west and vowed never to come east again. [A story that stuck in Prigozy’s mind because she was a New Yorker.] ... To me— and I was very young—he was a mythic figure, but what was interesting was that he seemed that way to those who knew him well. As the spring semester at Iowa ran down, Clark’s letters became more and more love letters to his wife, suggesting continuing dismay...